


Something Special

by glim



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe, First Meetings, M/M, Victor Nikiforov has a lot of feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-22
Updated: 2017-01-22
Packaged: 2018-09-19 03:28:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9416060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glim/pseuds/glim
Summary: Viktor sees him first. He thinks, perhaps, he’ll keep it a secret as long as he can, because the moment seems so small and perfect, almost encapsulated in time and space.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tracionn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tracionn/gifts).



> For tracionn, for the prompt "Viktor/Yuri, first time meeting at a public ice rink AU please?." (Revised from original tumblr post.)

Viktor sees him first. 

He thinks, perhaps, he’ll keep it a secret as long as he can, because the moment seems so small and perfect, almost encapsulated in time and space. 

It’s a Saturday, just after noon, and he’s been at the rink since seven o’clock that morning. Two colleagues out sick on short notice means that somebody has to cover the classes, and since Viktor already has two freestyle lessons to teach that day, he agrees to take on the other other two morning sessions. They're early morning sessions, though, and while Viktor's often awake at six on Saturday, he's not usually getting ready for work. But the hours go by quickly, and before he realizes, his last class is finished, and he has time to chat with students and parents before they leave. 

He's tired and a little sore, but pleasantly so, and not quite ready to make the trip home. A few more laps around the rink while it's still empty, fifteen minutes of cool-down stretching, and Viktor's ready to sit and rest. 

Viktor puts on his warm-up jacket and scarf, gets himself the biggest cup of tea they’ll sell him at the snack bar, and sits down to watch the rink get resurfaced for public skating. 

A few people file in to pay admission and warm up while they wait for the resurfacing to finish. A family, a couple of his weekday students in for weekend practice. Only about a half dozen people–it’s early, the weather outside is damp, cold, and miserable, and it's the strange, undefinable time between Christmas and New Year's. 

A quiet, lonely sort of time. Grey and blurred, the end of one year creeping toward the start the next. It's better to be at work, Viktor thinks, better to be teaching and skating, than sitting at home watching the minutes pass and thinking of the old year.

Viktor leans back in his seat, cradling his tea against his chest, and pulls out his phone. He flicks through a few Instagram posts before he stops at the sharp sound of blades on ice. 

And then he sees him. 

A boy – no, well, probably Viktor’s age, maybe younger, probably a bit younger, who skates as if his blades barely skim the surface. There’s music in his movement, and Viktor cannot help but learn forward and watch, intent. 

He didn't take lessons here, because if he had, then Viktor would have known, he would have known him and his style. Viktor would've been able to explain why the angle of his hip or the smooth line from his shoulder to his wrist to the tips of his fingers feels so familiar. 

But not so familiar that Viktor can predict his moves. He watches avid, entertained, enthralled, and feels himself blush and smile when the other man catches his eye. 

Twenty minutes pass before Viktor notices he has four notifications on his phone and his tea had gone lukewarm. 

“Who is he?” Viktor asks, leaning on the skate rental and admission counter. 

Yuko looks over her shoulder. “That’s Yuuri, he comes to skate here every weekend. Haven’t you met him already?” 

“No, I’d remember. But you must know him, or he wouldn’t be allowed on the ice so quickly. Who is he?” Viktor tries again, this time smiling and shrugging his hair out his eyes. He’s aiming for charming, but it only gets him a sigh in response. “Please? But don’t tell him I asked.” 

Yuko sighs at him again. “Just come next Saturday and introduce yourself. He’s usually here before one, and stays a little while after the open skate time ends.” 

*

Viktor does not allow himself to think about next Saturday until next Saturday happens. This is a luxury he cannot allow himself; the luxury of hope, and the luxury of imagining what might happen after he introduces himself. He keeps the thought tucked into the back of his mind, though, and on Saturday morning he lets it unfold. 

He teaches his two morning lessons, goes home to walk Makkachin, and then returns to work just before the rink opens to the public. 

This time, though, he puts his own skates on, but waits until Yuuri starts skating to get on the ice. He even talks to a former student before circling the rink a couple times. When his path finally, finally crosses Yuuri’s, he slows down to skate next to him. 

“You’re very good,” he says, mouth suddenly dry. He smiles though, the brightest and best smile he has, and clasps his hands behind his back. "I couldn't help but notice." 

Yuuri looks surprised, then flattered, and when he smiles, Viktor feels a little skip in his chest. “Oh… Thank you? I just like to come a few times a week. Nothing special…” 

And that, Viktor knows, when Yuuri grins at him again and matches his own pace to Viktor’s, is quite possibly the least true thing he’s ever heard. His heart tells him there is nothing more special than the man next to him, and if he can trust anything, he can trust that faint, fragile feeling. 

"I'm Viktor," he says, when the silence between them has settled into something soft and comfortable. 

"Sure," Yuuri says, then, ducking his head with embarrassment, adds, "I just... I know. Everyone who skates here knows Viktor Nikiforov. I'm sorry? I didn't mean--" he says, now hesitant when Viktor doesn't reply. 

He looks so distressed, so worried he's said the wrong thing, that Viktor reaches out for Yuuri's hand and tugs it into his own. "What can I say, I spend too much time here. I work too much, maybe?"

"Maybe..." Yuuri looks down at their clasped hands after a moment and when he looks back up, he's hesitant once more. "Are you going to--" 

"Oh..." Viktor lets their hands slip from each other and he slows, waits for Yuuri to catch up, and feels his heart skip again when Yuuri lets their hands touch. He has fingerless gloves on, and Viktor can feel the warm brush of Yuuri's fingertips against the back of his own hand. "I should apologize...?"

Yuuri looks ready to retreat into his hesitation, but he shakes his head. "I'm Yuuri... I, I used to watch you teach the freestyle skating." 

The admission sends such a feeling of relief, and of what he prays is not a displaced sense of hopefulness, that Viktor cannot help but laugh. "Well, Yuuri, show me what you've learned from all those Saturday mornings waiting for the free skate to open. Then you'll let me buy you a cup of tea, yes?" 

For a moment, Yuuri is too wide-eyed with surprise, but when Viktor starts to skate away from him, he follows. 

It's been a long, dull winter, but a new year is upon them, and when Viktor glances over his shoulder, he can see how it might unfold for him.


End file.
